Author Archives: Daniel L. Williams


Portis

stacey held onto my hand sometimes when we;d go driving. nothing huge, but we had been watching reality television that dictates close friends to hold eachother in such a way uncommon. like loose folds of chinese hollister jersey wattling to our fingers interlaced. but anyway the car was full of cigarettes. i liked days like this where we’d just drive around smoking and playing cds. the way the sky looked like a cloud of cigarette smoke we had exhaled together over the past years. of course i thought that, my simple mind. it sounded like cool lyrics

we went to the drive through and got drinks and i felt the headrest molding my skull in the most endearing way. stacy took her hand off mine to get the drinks but i left mine on the console psilently. i didn’t take my head off the cushion , feeling the curves on the back of my brain. stacy said we’d go to the mall saturday so this felt like a build-up toward an important day where we’d go somewhere exciting. she pulled into the highway going kinda slow. there was no traffic behind us but it felt appropriate. i felt the slow acceleration in the back of my head gently climax

i didn’t know where we were going but we left town the trees. i hadn’t even seen the drink i got but out of the corner of my eye. stacy said we’d go to the park we found last year. it felt important. i felt the CD in the back of my skull spinning. the clear green yellow silver CDR in my brain. my sexy teen brain

we went to the park we found a long time ago. it was in the middle of some young woods that had grown up over an old jail after it was demolished, save for the traces of concrete and exercise yard. the gravel made me raise my head from the poly cushion and observe my drink. the water on the outside made it undesirable for a moment but i thought of the woods and took that first sip of coke. we left the car and started the slower trip to the concrete edge where we’d stick cigarette butts in the ground and heat up stray ants with a lighter. the burns like little fingerprints

some guys came out of nowhere and we got hit hard on the back of my head (her back of her head too, i guess) and i felt a tense moment opposite of the trip here. i couldn’t quite articulate it into my brain. the CD was skipping but i couldn’t move or fight back. i couldn’t hear the music either. the CD kept skipping… seeking. they flipped me over my cheek on the ground. i could see stacy she was fighting. something must have hit my head or maybe “my spine.” i couldn’t feel anything but i could tell i was moving back and forth a half-inch at a time. the rocks and cigarette burns by my face. i could taste the coke again.

i wondered about my spine… the way it was resting. it couldn’t be good but i couldn’t feel anything bad going on with it. it seemed fine. it felt like i was back in the car. stacy and i were holding hands, sweatshirt wristcuffs kissing. we’d go back home and watch tv. something about the coke we got by her house at the gas station was always so good after it had been in her refrigerator. those big glasses her mom had bought a long time ago when we were little. we put them in the freezer once to make it really cold for a sleepover but it broke one of the glasses. it was pretty how it broke but stayed the same shape

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